


The Learning Game

by Caryn_B



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caryn_B/pseuds/Caryn_B
Summary: Han persuades Luke to give a talk about the Jedi, but it's not just the students who end up learning something new.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2008.

Luke took a deep breath in, some vague notion at the back of his mind that using the Force to calm his nerves was a little ironic, considering he was here in his role as the galaxy's only practicing Jedi. Wasn't composure supposed to be inherent in his nature now? "I think this was a bad idea," he declared.

Han rolled his eyes in predictable fashion. "Just get out there."

"I have to wait to be introduced. But really–"

"I don't see what the problem is. It's just a bunch of kids."

Luke turned to look back into the audience hall. The 'bunch of kids' had an average age of not much below his own. Even the youngest ones were at least eighteen standard years, and none of them looked like Luke remembered looking at eighteen. But if Raxxila and Tatooine were 40,000 light years apart, they were even further apart in attitude. Here there was confidence in abundance, together with an air of maturity and worldliness that had been a rare thing among the rural communities of Luke's childhood. The misfit farmboy he once was would've been as out of place here as a water-serpent in the Dune Sea.

They were in the Grand Audience Hall of the Raxxilian Institute for Advanced Learning. Gifted scholars competed from all over the galaxy for one of the thousand places offered each Galactic Standard year. The Institute covered a broad range of subjects but its emphasis was on the theoretical rather than the practical. For generations its pupils had studied the history and teachings of the Jedi until the ban imposed by the Empire over two decades ago. The Institute had reinstated the course, but without access to the genuine article it had lost much of its appeal. The current Principal had wasted little time in contacting Luke in the hopes of reversing the decline in interest.

The odd thing about it was that Han had been the one who'd persuaded him to agree. Han, who made no secret of his dislike for elite institutions, at least in principle.

"If it's a disaster I'm blaming you," Luke warned.

Han held his hands out in a gesture of submission. "Wouldn't have it any other way." He took a step nearer to Luke, his expression showing something close to appeasement. "Listen, all you've gotta do is go out there, tell' em what you know, and it'll be over before you know it."

"That's part of the problem though isn't it? I don't really know anything. If they're expecting some world-shattering lecture–"

"Forget about what you think they're expectin'," Han interrupted. "Tell 'em all the things you've told me and you'll be fine."

"How do you know? You've never listened to anything I've ever told you!"

"Talk about why you've chosen to live like you do and not like the Jedi of the past. Explain how _you_ feel about the Force. All that stuff about harmony and light and dark, and staying connected to the real world."

Han's words caught Luke unawares and for one brief moment he forgot why he'd come here. "So you _do_ listen sometimes."

Han shrugged. "Ain't just you who's full of surprises."

A soft ripple of astonishment passed through Luke. Several months ago Han had asked, in a half-humorous manner designed to cover his obvious uneasiness with the subject, just what Luke had found to say to Vader when he'd met him face to face. And Luke had been able to tell him, word perfect. Because, whether he liked it or not, every moment of that encounter was forever inscribed on his brain. It was obvious that Han was alluding to that conversation as his way of refuting Luke's accusation that he didn't listen. He'd done more than listened – he'd remembered. And maybe it shouldn't have been so unexpected. Han's own meeting with Vader hadn't been very forgettable either, and the two events _were_ connected.

Han cut into his thoughts, flinging Luke straight back into the unwelcome situation he was in. "The reason it's so packed in there ain't 'cause you're some high and mighty Jedi Master, but because of what you did. You've gotta admit it makes quite a story."

Luke shook his head. "They won't want to hear about me – it's Jedi philosophy they're interested in."

"I wouldn't be so sure if I was you. Didn't the Principal say you could talk about anything?"

"Yes... but I don't think she meant that literally."

Luke gazed through the screen at the gathering crowd. The place was nothing like he'd anticipated. He'd envisioned a cold, dark, echoing hall filled with orderly rows of benches and the subdued murmur of academic conversation.

Instead, the building was a bright, modern construction of permacrete and transparisteel. Sunlight flooded in through broad roof panels and side windows, illuminating every corner of the interior. Seats formed a semicircle around a raised dais and podium, which seemed to attract the brightest of the sun's rays. There were no shadows to hide in, and no way to avoid being the center of attention. He couldn't even get to the dais without walking through the throng.

And then there was the noise. An excited clash of languages that bounced off the windows in chaotic exuberance. If the students kept that up it wouldn't matter what he said, as no-one would hear a thing anyway. And it was sweltering. The heat from hundreds of bodies, combined with the sunniest day that Raxxila had seen for decades, had pushed the temperature in the hall up to something approaching Tatooine levels. But it was far from the dry, blistering heat of Tatooine. This was a heavy heat, full of moisture and redolent with the myriad scents of a multitude of perspiring species.

Luke wiped the back of his sleeve across his forehead, uncomfortably aware that he looked anything but the cool, collected and totally-in-control presence the students would expect. His hair was already beginning to stick to his scalp and he ran a hand through it, trying to cool himself down.

"You look hot," Han pointed out.

Nothing like stating the obvious. "Really."

"You'd probably feel a lot better if you took that thing off."

That 'thing' was Luke's cloak, and he had no intention of removing it. Especially now. He wondered if it would matter if he put the hood up in order to hide his face – except that would just give Han extra ammunition to use against him. Luke had no doubt this was going to end up spread around the pilots' barracks in some exaggerated form or other. Although the way things were going, Han wouldn't _need_ to exaggerate. "I'd probably feel a lot better if I'd stayed at home."

"You'd have missed out on the view then."

"What view?" Luke asked, puzzled.

"From where I'm standin', looks pretty good to me."

Luke followed the direction of Han's eyes to where one of the scholars stood, busily peeling off layers of unwanted clothing. "Trust you to notice." 

"It's hard to miss. Doesn't leave a lot to the imagination, does it?"

"No," Luke agreed, observing how the activity seemed to be infectious. One by one, the students stood up and began shedding garments or removing heavy head-gear and unnecessary weaponry.

"Gettin' better by the minute." Han undid another couple of buttons on his shirt and wafted the fabric about to prevent it sticking to his chest.

"Joining in?" Luke asked.

Han grinned, and the glint in his eyes seemed to flash a challenge at Luke. "I will if you want me to."

Luke stared at him for as long as it took him to find his voice, certain that Han hadn't meant his remark in the way it had come out. He was still thinking of a rejoinder when the Principal chose that moment to enter the audience hall, and the words he produced had an entirely different slant. "Damn it all to every hell and back."

Han snorted. "I thought you were gonna talk about the Light Side of the Force."

"Right now I'm beginning to see the attraction of the Dark Side," Luke said, leveling a glare at Han.

"Don't blame me. Just 'cause I said it'd be a good thing to do doesn't mean I forced you into it."

"You challenged me to do it."

"Exactly! And there's no way you'd ever walk away from a challenge. Not that you'll admit that."

"Walking away isn't a Jedi characteristic."

Han's grin widened. "Nor's pride, last time I heard."

"Well you're the expert in that." Luke grimaced as the clamor in the room abated. The Principal fluttered her wings in preparation for introducing Luke.

"Seriously though," Han said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper, "you've got nothing to worry about. It's enough that you've done what you've done and that you're the way you are. You don't need anything else. You've gotta have confidence in yourself."

Luke studied Han's face, finding in those last words a possible motive behind Han's insistence that he do this talk. Was his lack of self-assurance _that_ noticeable to Han? He didn't reply, but gave Han a quick nod, half-listening to the chirruping tones of the Principal.

_"...Luke Skywalker... last of the Jedi... Rebel Alliance... benefit of his wisdom..."_

The last phrase made Luke cringe. Maybe he'd have wisdom in another few decades, but right now he felt like he didn't even have any common-sense.

"I think you're on," Han remarked. "Good luck. And hey," he added, the challenging glint back in his eye, "later on we can talk about all those Dark Side things you wanna do to me."

~~

The silence that descended on the hall when Luke walked out was startling. It was as though someone had thrown a switch, cutting off all the chatter in mid-sentence. Numerous pairs and sets of eyes followed Luke as he made his way towards the dais.

The distance through the hall was little more than fifty meters, but it felt never-ending. Han's last words were still ringing in Luke's ears, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what Han had meant by them. Nor was this an appropriate moment. All he _did_ know was that their implications had made Luke's body temperature rise even further, and if he took his speculation in a certain direction he'd most likely expire from heat exhaustion. If Han had seen so easily through the layer of calm confidence he'd manufactured, could he also see beneath Luke's endeavors to hide away feelings that had started in a sleazy cantina in Mos Eisley? 

If that was so, he should've been more careful. In the last few months it'd been harder to keep that attraction at bay. Probably because Han and Leia had finally admitted that their relationship was going no further than friendship, so he'd not had to shoulder the additional burden of a daily guilt-trip. But even if he'd let something show, it was difficult to believe that Han would take advantage of it purely for amusement's sake. Han was many things but insensitive wasn't one of them, even though most people might struggle to agree. 

But Luke had reached the dais and it had now become more important that he concentrate on not tripping up the stairs and falling flat on his face. It wouldn't do a lot for his dignity but – much worse – it'd give Han 'I told you so' points for not leaving his cloak in the ante-room. He made it safely to the podium and breathed a subtle sigh of relief. He noticed that someone had rigged up a voice-amplifier on top of the stand, but the acoustics of the room made it redundant. And it wasn't as though he was going to have to speak up to make himself heard. 

Two things struck him as he let his gaze take in the audience hall from this new, disturbing perspective. The first was that, no matter how hard he wished for it, the floor was not going to open up and swallow him. The second was that there was no possibility of keeping his cloak on. Not if he was going to stand upright for the next hour or so under the concentrated shaft of sunlight that was hitting him directly on the top of his head. He kept his eyes away from the area of the ante-room, trying not to imagine Han's self-satisfied grin, and slipped the cloak off as casually and as discreetly as he could manage.

The gesture didn't go unnoticed. Instead, it provoked a flurry of sound that passed through the seated crowd, growing louder as it reached the back. Luke looked around, confused by the reaction. One of the students smiled at him and Luke smiled back, grateful for the touch of informality. The reaction to that was even more mystifying. The student's smile turned to a blush, and somewhere in the audience someone giggled. As Luke had noted earlier with the undressing phenomenon, behavior in the hall had an infectious quality, and the rapid swell of noise across the gathering was as puzzling as it was disconcerting. Luke took the opportunity to loosen the top fastenings of his tunic, the cooling effect immediately negated by the soft whisper that floated up from one of the front rows.

"Don't stop there."

Unfortunately for Luke most of the occupants of the hall, as well as being incapable of missing every minuscule move he made, proved to be especially sharp of hearing. This time the reaction was louder, accompanied by a lot of shifting of seats. With rising alarm, Luke realized that they were actually edging their seats closer to him. Things were not going to plan. The atmosphere in the hall was so radically different from the air of austere leaning he'd envisaged that it had thrown all of his mental preparation aside. He tried to ignore the flush that was creeping up from his neck. Willing it to go away just wasn't working. 

He cleared his throat, deciding he should start with something innocuous and neutral. "I'd like to thank the Principal for asking me to Raxxila."

A wave of agreement swept through the listening students. One of them spoke up. "We'd like to thank _you_ for coming. We've been looking forward to it for weeks."

"Oh... good." The wretched flush was spreading up over his cheeks now, and it didn't help that out of the corner of his eye he'd spotted Han leaning back against the far side of the audience hall. This fiasco was going to keep Han in glasses of brandy for a long time to come. "I just hope I can tell you enough about what you want to know. I've not been a Jedi for very long," he said. 

"Did you always know there was something different about you though?" another of the students asked, her Basic laced with the guttural clicks of her native language.

Luke hesitated, wondering how far he should diverge from his planned talk. At the same time it made a nice surprise to discover that the Institute didn't cultivate the awkward divide he'd expected between pupils and guests. "Yes, I think so. At least, I always felt like I never fitted in. I had no idea why though."

"In what ways?" the Vuuranian persisted.

Luke glanced across at the Principal, but she simply ruffled her feathers at him, indicating that the choice of subject was his alone. It occurred to Luke that if her objective had been to generate renewed support for the Jedi course, she'd almost certainly achieved it. Whether the interest was academic in nature was another matter.

"I don't know how fascinating it'll be," he smiled. "My life on Tatooine wasn't the most exciting."

"But we'd like to hear about it," a furred Bimm pointed out. "We'd like to hear about everything."

Without meaning to, Luke looked at the back of the hall, his eyes drawn involuntarily towards Han. He was propped up against a plasteel strut that supported the side wall of the hall, most of his body angled to receive the small amount of shade afforded by the strut. But the sun was fully on his face, revealing an expression that spoke of amusement along with something less definable. At this distance, it was hard to be certain anyway. Perhaps it was vindication, and if Han was feeling that way he was probably justified. He'd been right about most things so far. But just as Luke was about to look away Han grinned at him. Not broadly, but a slow, lazy, spreading grin that made Luke forget, for the second time, what he was supposed to be doing.

His lapse in concentration was a mere second, but even that didn't go unobserved. Heads began to turn towards the source of Luke's distraction, and Luke had to act quickly before everyone present picked up on it. "If you really want to know everything I might be here for some time," he said. "Maybe I should sit down."

He hastened to the edge of the dais and sat, pre-empting the inevitable rise of several hundred students all wanting to give up their seats for him. He shook his head at the Principal, who looked on the verge of ordering a student to fetch him a chair. 

After that it was easy. Sitting cross-legged on the dais removed Han from his line of sight and more-or-less eliminated the acute self-consciousness he'd felt standing up alone under the all-illuminating glare of the sun. And talking about his past wasn't as difficult as he'd expected. Not when those listening exhibited an interest based on neither politeness nor morbid curiosity. They had an enthusiasm for even the most humdrum aspects of his former life and asked question after question on his opinions about the Force, the 'old-school' Jedi they'd read about in their holobooks, and the future of the Jedi. It didn't matter that much of it was still new to Luke, and that he'd only just started working some things out himself. In fact, it seemed to endear the students even more towards him.

What had started as an ordeal had turned into a friendly and lively discussion, albeit an exhausting one. Luke had no idea how long he'd been there when the Principal eventually pushed her way through the crowd, pointing out that maybe their guest deserved a break.

~~

The Audience Hall had an adjoining conference room with low, comfortable chairs and protocol droids serving tall glasses of chilled fruit juice. It was as crowded in there as it had been in the lecture hall, and almost as hot. Luke chose to remain standing, suspecting that if he sank into one of the chairs he might just fall asleep. The emotional drain of his former anxiety was beginning to catch up with him, as was the strain of talking non-stop for the past couple of hours or so. But equally as tiring, and a lot more frustrating, had been his ongoing battle with his rebellious mind.

 _Bury your feelings deep down_ had been a piece of advice Ben had doled out without ever realizing the extent to which Luke would use it. Being in love with his best friend wasn't the easiest of routes to have chosen. Not that he'd _had_ much of a choice. It had come about against his will, even though he'd told himself it was nothing – just a physical attraction that happened to be stronger than anything he'd felt for anyone before. 

At first he'd dismissed it as a side effect of their very first meeting, when Han had personified the excitement and risk of life beyond Tatooine. Several months later, when Luke realized he was more than capable of discovering the wonders of the galaxy by himself, continuing to use that as an excuse just didn't wash. He'd had to find other lines of reasoning. Like reflecting on how Han had saved his life on more than one occasion. After Han had rescued him on Hoth it'd been simple enough to attribute his feelings to gratitude. It wasn't so easy to justify all the preceding night-time fantasies that did more than take the edge off the chill of Echo Base.

He'd been fooling himself, but more importantly, he'd been fooling everyone around him too. Especially now, when his supposed lack of a relationship was put down to any number of reasons but the correct one. Like he must be too busy. Or it was just a Jedi thing. Or he was still recovering from everything that had happened to him. Or that he was still grieving for those he'd lost. 

The truth was, no-one else interested him in the same way as Han. It wasn't that he didn't try. There'd been plenty of chances, many of them instigated by Han. And that was part of the reason why he'd invested so much energy into hiding his feelings away. It had always seemed clear to Luke than Han didn't feel the same way. There'd been Leia, for one. And the way Han swaggered about when surrounded by admirers who'd have leapt into bed with him at the first hint of encouragement. Lately it had been Han's relentless pursuit over what he termed 'Luke's wellbeing.' Whenever Luke questioned Han on this, Han would just smirk and tell him it'd do him good to take a break from responsibilities. 

When pressed further Han would usually drop the euphemisms, making Luke sorry he'd mentioned it in the first place. Arguing with Han over why he didn't choose to have sex with whoever Han thought he should have sex with felt like stepping too close to the edge. And Han always wanted to know why things hadn't worked out. The main thing Luke had ascertained from those occasions was Han's obvious lack of interest in him. It made perfect sense to assume that someone so keen to see his friend paired off was not considering himself to be a candidate. All of which made Han's earlier comments even less comprehensible, and much more likely to be some sort of joke.

Luke glanced across to where Han stood, reveling in the undivided attention of a growing number of students. Perhaps he shouldn't have looked, but Luke was ready to call the entire day a failure in terms of keeping thoughts of Han at a safe distance. It probably had something to do with the heat and humidity. And the way Han's shirt clung damply to his chest. Han had pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing forearms marked with the faint luster of perspiration, and his hair had curled damply around his ears and at the nape of his neck. Every so often Han would run his fingers through it, ruffling it up to attract a transient coolness to his scalp.

Aware that his contribution to the conversation he was part of was in danger of becoming automatic, Luke tore his eyes away from Han. But not before he'd caught sight of a female Zeltron catching hold of Han's arm and reaching up to whisper something in his ear. Unable to resist a further, covert look, Luke caught the remains of Han's grin and the soft laugh of the Zeltron as she edged a little closer to Han. Luke looked away in earnest and resigned himself to an evening alone.

"We're hoping you and General Solo will join us in the Inollor Tavern tonight. We've asked for a special room to be set aside." 

Luke twisted his head to locate the speaker, an excuse for Han already forming on his lips.

"We've gotta deal with a few communications first. Alliance stuff. Might mean we'll be late," Han replied.

Luke stared at him, more bemused by Han's sudden materialization beside him than by the mysterious communications they were supposed to make. It was the first he'd heard of them. "Oh... yes. We'll get there as soon as we can," he said, in an attempt to cover his confusion. His answer drew delighted smiles from the crowd surrounding them.

"Might be a good idea to make a start," Han pointed out. He'd hooked his thumbs into his blaster belt, his stance confident and laid-back, but his eyes held Luke's with a focused appeal that was at odds with his appearance. 

Luke nodded slowly, wondering what it was he'd just agreed to do. 

~~

Luke paused outside the Audience Hall's main entrance and glanced around, waiting for the Zeltron student to make an appearance, this time accompanied by a friend and a powerful dose of pheromones. He met Han's quizzical gaze. "It's just us?"

"Sure. What did you expect?"

Luke started walking, glancing over his shoulder at Han. "Everywhere we go these days you try to fix me up with someone. I guess I thought you'd do the same today."

"Hey, we can go back if that's what you want. Everyone in there's got the hots for you. I bet even the Principal would come down off her perch if you gave her the come on."

Luke gave an exasperated sigh. "You know something? You're ridiculous."

"At least I don't go around with my eyes shut. I've told you a hundred times, but you still don't listen," Han declared.

"Told me what a hundred times?"

"You'd know if you'd listened."

"Han, you tell me _hundreds_ of things hundreds of times. It's your specialty. How am I supposed to know which particular thing you're talking about now?"

"You just don't see it do you? You can't get it into your head that someone might be attracted to you 'cause they like the way you look."

Luke hesitated. "People are attracted to a reputation, even if it's unfounded. Most of the time they haven't got a clue what I'm like underneath."

"You never give anyone a chance to find out."

"That's not true," Luke protested. "I'm happy to talk to someone if they're genuinely interested."

"And talkin's as far as it goes. You don't let anyone get further than that."

So they were back there again. Luke groaned inaudibly and tried to choose his words with care. "That's just your opinion. You don't know everything."

"No, I don't know everything and that's my point. How can I when you don't let me get that close?"

Luke frowned. "We're about as close as it's possible to get. I don't keep things from you." It wasn't strictly true of course, but it covered what he thought Han was suggesting.

"We're not as close as it's possible to get," Han said. A note of belligerence had crept into his voice. "I can think of a lot of ways to get closer, but it's obvious you don't wanna reciprocate."

"You'll have to explain that."

"It means to give back in return. Y'know – I do somethin' for you, you do somethin' for me."

"I know what the _word_ means! I don't know how it relates to us right now."

"I told ya – open your eyes."

"Okay, and I heard you. But you're talking about _you_ , and that's not the same thing at all."

"Isn't it?"

Han had stopped and was looking around him, his eyes traveling over the clusters of students filling the Institute's central courtyard. Luke studied his profile in the silence that had fallen between them and came to the conclusion that nothing made sense. He thought again about Han's suggestive comments back in the ante-room, and his decision to treat them as some kind of joke. Wishful thinking came far too easily to him, and he didn't want to give himself even more cause for disappointment. But Han's last words had held no trace of humor. If anything, there'd been a touch of bitterness.

"I'm not sure what you want to hear," Luke said eventually. "You imply you want to get closer to me but I don't know what you mean by that."

A small group of Bith students walked past them, leaving in their wake the distinctive aroma of the sealed gardens of their homeworld – a fragrance the entire Bith race seemed to exude. Luke breathed it in, the scent – thanks to a band of Bith musicians – forever linked to another, quite different, sensation that had stolen across him the day he'd first met Han in Mos Eisley.

Han's sudden grip of Luke's elbow dragged him back from the moment of recollection, the sharp wrench of desire that the scent had provoked dulling to a familiar, persistent ache. Han gave him a tug in the direction of a narrow walk-through between two duracrete towers, following his gesture with a gruff request. "Come on. We can't talk here."

Luke followed Han along the dank, airless walk-through. It gave out onto a permacrete enclosure, bordered on three sides by a tall screen of preformed blocks. Inside were a number of oversized metal dump-bins that emitted a ripe odor of rotting food and general decay. They'd found one of the Institute's garbage yards.

"Scenic place," Luke remarked, trying to tame the swarm of insects that seemed to have colonized his insides.

"Yeah," Han said, but without looking round at where they were. Luke didn't think he'd even noticed the smell. 

"We know each other pretty well don't we?" Han continued, his thumbs once more hooked into his blaster belt.

"I thought we did, but you're saying otherwise."

"As _friends_ we know each other well. So I'm not gonna mess about. If you don't like what I'm saying, all you've gotta do is tell me."

"Okay..."

"Seems like we both spend a lot of time with people we don't wanna spend time with, and before you interrupt with some wise-ass comment, I'm not talkin' about Madine."

Luke threw him a grin. "The thought never entered my head."

"Then the humidity must've gotten to you," Han muttered.

And it wasn't the only thing, Luke thought, but refrained from voicing that. "If you're referring to all those so-called dates you keep arranging, I've always made it clear that they're not what I want. I thought you enjoyed them though."

"You thought wrong."

"So why do it?"

Han shrugged. "I was just tryin' to work somethin' out in my head. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

He didn't elaborate and Luke wondered if he was supposed to have deduced some specific meaning from the cryptic answer. There didn't seem a lot of point pretending he had. "Work what out exactly?" he asked. "D'you mean the type of relationship you want? Or the kind of person you're looking for?"

"It ain't about what _I_ want. I _know_ what I want. Nobody I went off with expected it to go anywhere. I laid that out from the start. We're talkin' friendly drinks and that's it."

Luke smiled, silently berating himself for the ridiculous happiness those words brought him. He'd rebuked himself many times for the pinpricks of jealousy he'd felt whenever Han left in the company of someone else, but discovering they'd been unfounded made no difference in the end. Friendly drinks were the most Luke could expect from Han too. "It won't do your reputation much good if that gets out," he said.

"Nah – my reputation's strong enough to take anything you wanna throw at it."

"Right." Luke considered how easy it was to sidestep thorny issues when they wanted to. They could go on for hours like this and never get to the point. With the stench from the dump-bins close to overpowering, Luke wondered if he should press Han for a bit more clarity. "You were going to tell me what you were trying to work out," he prompted.

"Sure." Han ran his fingers through his hair, doing that futile cooling thing again. "I wanted to know where you stood. What kinda person you might wanna be with."

"Why?"

"I needed to know." Han's tone was short, and once again he showed no sign of expanding on his answer.

"I don't see why it matters. If it's that important why didn't you just ask me?"

"Seemed easier not to. The way I see it, askin' someone something directly can lead to all sorts of misunderstandings."

"And your method wouldn't?"

"You're not thinkin' it through. I'll give you an example. If I wanted to know if you had any feelings for a specific person – let's call 'em Person A – seein' how you were with other people would give me a clue."

"That's the most ridiculous way of finding something out that I've ever heard," Luke said.

"Didn't seem as ridiculous as asking you."

"So if I'd started seeing someone, what would that have told you?"

"That you weren't interested in Person A."

Luke shook his head in protest. "How can you make out it's that simple? If I don't have a clue about what that person – sorry, _Person A_ – wants and whoever it is has never asked me or told me anything, there's no reason for me to think they'd want anything. And if I _did_ have any feelings for that person, seeing someone else might've meant I'd given up hope of anything more with them."

Han's grin returned. " 'Cept it'd never happen that way."

"Why not?"

" 'Cause you're you, and you don't do half-measures. If you started somethin' up with someone else, it'd be for real."

Luke had to concede that Han was onto something there. And put that way, he could almost see the tiniest glimmer of logic in Han's approach, even though it still held top place for the most bizarre method ever of determining someone's feelings. "So what conclusions have you come to over all of this?"

"I'm still workin' on 'em."

"I see." Luke rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. If this was Han getting to the crux of the matter without messing about, he dreaded to think how long it might take if Han _chose_ to prevaricate. All these veiled references to an abstract person Luke might or might not have feelings for was surely confirmation that Han had guessed at Luke's far from platonic thoughts about him. 

The swarm of insects had returned to Luke's stomach with reinforcements, but if he and Han were to get out of the garbage yard anytime soon, one of them had to say something more specific. "There's something else you need to consider," he said, forcing his voice to sound normal.

"Oh yeah?"

"To go back to this theoretical person – how d'you think I'd react if I _did_ want to be with them, but they spent all their time pushing me into seeing other people? Don't you think that would give me a message that not only was the person not interested in me, but that it'd be a very bad idea for me to reveal my feelings?"

Han started to reply then fell silent, looking at him with a slight frown between his brows. When he spoke he'd clearly decided to abandon all pretence. "Like I said, I know what _I_ want. I had to try 'n find out if you wanted the same thing."

 _The same thing..._ Was Han really saying what Luke thought he was saying, or was this just another instance of him hearing what he wanted to hear? But _did_ he want the same thing as Han? He doubted that whatever Han was considering came close to the things Luke craved. And if Han was looking for nothing more than an interesting way to spend the night, could Luke go along with that? As with everything in his life, there wasn't an easy answer. Luke had learned to live with the situation as it was now by resorting to a series of defensive measures. He wasn't sure if he could deal with it at all if he threw all of those hard-won safeguards away. "It depends on what it is you want," he said slowly, playing for time while he tried to reconcile his heart and his head.

Han chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments. "A Zeltron came up to me in the conference room."

"I noticed. I'm amazed you managed to drag yourself away."

"I'm immune to all that stuff they give out," Han said, scowling. "Anyway, she didn't want me. She was after you."

Luke blinked. "Oh."

"She asked me if I could arrange something – get you to take her out. She thought you'd be suspicious if she approached you directly. Y'know – you bein' a Jedi."

"What did you say?"

"That you already had plans for the evening. I told her I'd mention it though. So I have."

"I didn't know I had any plans."

Han looked at him through narrowed eyes. "D'you _want_ to see her?"

"No! I mean, I'm sure she's very nice, but... no. Does that help with your conclusions?"

"Actually, I've kinda figured out my method isn't working too well, so I'm going for a different angle. Instead of sortin' out a date for the Zeltron, I thought maybe I should ask you myself."

"You want... a date?"

"Of course I don't want a stupid date," Han growled. "I want _you_. Long term. Permanently. Whatever. For as long as you can stand me. But from the way you're staring at me I guess I won't even get one night."

"If you think that then you need to open your eyes," Luke said. It was a miracle that he'd managed any words at all, considering the way his throat had seized up.

Suspicion flooded Han's face. "This isn't just the heat talking?" 

"I think I can cope with a bit of sun."

"So you're sayin' yes?"

Han's question contained an undercurrent of accusation, as if he didn't quite believe him. "You can wait until I've told you a hundred times if you prefer," Luke said, the edge of laughter in his voice just breaking through.

"I _knew_ I wouldn't get through this conversation without at least one smart-ass remark from you."

"I'm glad I haven't let you down." 

They stood there for a few moments just looking at each other, allowing their surprising declarations to sink in and settle around them. Luke spoke first. "What now?"

"I'm open to ideas. You got any?"

"I can think of at least one." Luke touched a hand to Han's arm, letting the simple gesture take the place of all the old longing inside him. Luke caught the scent of Han's skin – a blend of soap and sweat and the Falcon – and it made him lightheaded. He closed his eyes, pulled Han to him and kissed him. As Han's arms slid around him, gripping him tightly, Luke felt the last of his defenses melt away. He had no need of them now.

When they pulled apart it took Luke several seconds to regain a sense of where he was. The rank stench of the yard brought it all back. "Nice location for a date," he murmured.

"It's not a date," Han pointed out, brushing kisses across Luke's jaw. 

"It'd still be good to go somewhere else." Luke closed his eyes again at the touch of Han's fingers against his neck. "Besides, we've got those communications to sort out." He opened his eyes, keeping a straight face. "Unless you made them up."

Han's face broke into another of his slow, lazy grins. "There's more 'n one definition of the word communication."

Luke grinned back. "You'll have to explain that."

Before replying Han tugged again on Luke's arm, a welcome signal that they could leave the garbage bins behind. Han turned to head back through the narrow walk-through, waiting for Luke to match his step. "I'll explain it," Han said, "but knowing you it'll need a lot of repetition."

Just before leaving the walk-through Han stopped and stilled, crinkling his nose up and looking around him. "There's a funny smell around here," he said.

Luke injected a convincing note of curiosity into his voice. "Is there?"

"Yeah, I'm surprised you haven't noticed it. I dunno – it kinda reminds me of something."

~end~


End file.
